Chapter XIV – Hunter: Warrior's Legacy
Lightspeed should not be mistaken for instantaneous travel – even light takes time to cross through deep space and reach the eyes of a stargazer. Our journey from Corellia to Kruvex to Almania to Tatooine had taken many weeks, and we could be certain that many more weeks of travel lay ahead of us. We had completed two quests, but there remained five more.
"What's the purpose of this anyhow?" demanded Fett irritably, about three weeks after our departure from Mos Espa. "How is this supposed to help us?"
"Magicians are fond of 'bonding' rituals," Ash replied as she sipped water from Luke's canteen. "The Shadow must know that it will take all of us to fulfill each other's personal desires, and bonding us is the most effective way of ensuring we will not split up before we have all decided our destinies." She tilted her head back to swallow. "The simplest form of bonding a fellowship together is to send them on a quest or a number of quests, usually one for each member of the fellowship."
That made sense. In working together, we formed bonds of friendship and empathy, learned to work together as a team, and discovered much about each other and ourselves.
"You know too much, bird," Fett muttered, then hissed in pain as he lowered himself to a sitting position on a crate. I watched him carefully, concerned. We had taken a detour to Ryloth in order to visit a medical center and have Fett treated, but the doctor had been unable to determine the cause of Fett's illness. He had prescribed medications to boost his strength and ease his pain, but so far the hunter had stubbornly refused to take them. I feared his obsession with independence would quite literally be the death of him.
Days wore on. We occupied the time by playing sabaac, telling stories of our personal exploits, and listening to Jessa sing. At the time I considered it the most deadly dull portion of our journey, but looking back, I wish that time could have been extended a little longer.
At last the navicomputer signaled that we were approaching a life-bearing satellite. I excused myself from the latest round and returned to the cockpit to land the ship.
"What planet is this?" asked Jessa.
Luke bent over a screen to check. "The computer doesn't say," he noted. "Just lists it as Planet DF-40. About half-rock and half-ocean, no settlement readings…"
"Mandalore," Fett interrupted.
I turned to regard him. "Mandalore?"
"The birthplace of the Mandalorian warriors," Fett replied, his gaze never leaving the planet.
He had everyone's attention by now. I set the ship into orbit in order to listen more closely.
"The Mandalorian Order is the oldest organization in the galaxy, older than even the oh-so-revered Jedi Order. It was formed by Mandalore the First, a great and cunning warrior who conquered the planet ages ago. The first Mandalorians considered war a form of worship, a divine action that enabled them to attain glory. They fought alongside the Sith Order during the Old Sith Wars and were all but obliterated by the Jedi. In recent times their worship turned to that of money, and they became mercenaries, some holding true to the old codes of honor, others eschewing such notions.
"It was Jaster Mereel who brought order to the Mandalorians. He resurrected the old codes and restored honor and a belief in justice. But a splinter group fought against him, becoming the Death Watchmen, and a bitter civil war all but destroyed the two Orders. The few remaining true Mandalorians were slaughtered by the Jedi, who mistakenly believed they were responsible for some atrocity or other on Galidraan. My father was the last."
He stopped there.
"What happened to your father?" asked Luke.
Fett did not look at him. "A Jedi named Mace Windu," he growled softly. "He beheaded him in the Battle of Geonosis, at the beginning of the Clone Wars."
Profound sympathy flooded Luke's features.
"The Order is dead," he said quietly. "What lies on Mandalore are the remains of our once great legacy, a symbol of how far the mighty can fall."
No one spoke as I landed the ship in the shadow of a plateau, some two kilometers from a set of jagged ruins. The flotsam and jetsam of the vanished Order lay scattered on the rocky, desolate plain – discarded blasters, rusted blades, bleached bones of Lagartoz War Dragons, gutted shells of Basilisk war droids, fragments of body armor, half-crushed helmets, and unidentifiable chunks of electronics and machinery. Our footsteps were careful and hushed as we disembarked, and there was an odd tension to the air, as if we were trespassing in a cemetery or a memorial. Even Jessa, whom we could never get to shut up under most circumstances, was silent.
So this was the site of our next quest, whatever it would be. And now the ring would supposedly lead us to that quest…
But it was silent. No pulse, no burning, no glowing, not even a prickle. Was it, too, subdued by the somber atmosphere of Mandalore? Or was there something else?
Tuck bent down and picked up a peculiar staff, which terminated at one end in dual blades formed from overlapping plates of sharpened, calcified bone. "What's this?" he asked, not daring to speak above a whisper.
"A mythosaur axe," Fett replied. "Mandalore was once covered with the beasts. Mandalore the First and his warriors exterminated them and created weapons from their remains."
Tuck digested this information, then wordlessly extended the axe toward Fett. The hunter hesitated, then took the weapon from him. I thought that perhaps Fett would simply toss it to the ground, but he kept it at his side as we continued walking.
A sharp cry, like a hawk-bat screaming in pain, split the stillness. All eyes turned skyward to see a dark shape as large as a reek cross the blood-red sun overhead.
"What is THAT?" Luke gaped.
He might well ask. The head, neck, and chest of a bird of prey, the ears and hindquarters of a sand panther, powerful forelegs that were scaled from the knees down, and a wingspan as great as an X-wing's…
Fett drew a blaster. "That's not a species native to Mandalore. Some warlord must have imported it. It's possible they escaped and spread…"
"Yes, but what is it?" Luke insisted.
"Nothing I've seen before," Fett replied.
"It's a griffon!" exclaimed Jessa, shielding her eyes against the scarlet sun. "Half lion, half eagle. Nasty beasts. Mythological – at least they're supposed to be."
The griffon landed at the edge of the plateau, folding its wings behind its back like a cloak, sitting as regally as a cat and gazing at us with fierce alien eyes. I had seen eyes like those before, I suddenly realized. The Shadow had a similar gaze, though her eyes were gray and not yellow. Come to think of it, Ash shared those strange eyes as well, and even the Ky-Lin's eyes, though gentle, had that same light in them, as if about to burst into flame…
"What else do you know about them?" asked Luke.
Jessa considered that. "Bits and pieces, mostly – they're not as popular as unicorns and dragons and Jedi and all that. Um, they like gold and can sniff it out even through kilometer-thick layers of stone… nobles would supposedly capture them and use them to guard their treasure stores… they're fond of horsemeat… their claws are supposed to change color when they touch poison, so con men used to make a lot of money by selling cups made out of animal horn to kings and other highborns, claming they were griffon claw…" Her eyes narrowed as she dug deeper for information. "About a week before Dalzor got me, I remember reading this story by Peter S. Beagle about a griffon. Great story, made me cry… but it said something about griffons having two hearts – one eagle, one lion. And to kill the griffon, you had to pierce both hearts."
"So which of that information is correct, and which is fantasy?" I asked.
"All of it is factual," Ash said, speaking up for the first time since we had landed on Mandalore. "All of it and more. Yes, they like gold and have a preference for the flesh of horses. Yes, their talons are sensitive to toxins of all kinds. Yes, they are fiendishly difficult to kill. But there is one more trait of theirs that makes them dangerous."
"Well, spit it out," Tuck advised. "Don't leave us hanging."
"Like dragons, unicorns, phoenixes, and Ky-Lins, griffons are beasts of magic. But they have no actual powers of their own. Rather, they have an insatiable hunger for magic… a bloodlust for any creature with any sort of power in its veins. They can sense the use of magic or the Force from a great distance, even from the far side of a planet, and they will trace that to its source in order to devour the user and his magic."
I clenched my left fist. No wonder the ring had been so quiet.
"During the Sith Wars, the Sith Order once attempted to tame griffons for use as attack beasts, in hopes of decimating the Jedi. The plan backfired when the captured animals turned on their captors and slaughtered over a hundred Sith Warriors, and they abandoned the plan. But the griffons somehow managed to spread from planet to planet – through exotic animal traders, no doubt – and now they have infested thousands of dark corners throughout the galaxy. Dozens of Jedi died from griffon attacks, and even now an unfortunate, ignorant Force-strong goes missing from time to time."
I suddenly recalled a Jedi Master from my days at the Temple, one Iona Grayblade. She had gone missing during a reconnaissance mission during the Clone Wars, and it was weeks before her mangled, claw-marked remains were found. At the time the Jedi had attributed it to the sadism of Grievous, but now, I wondered if her murderer had been another creature entirely.
"We must exercise caution," Ash ordered us. "Do not use the Force or magic unless absolutely necessary. Griffons normally travel in flocks, so do not assume this one is a lone beast. They will be especially attracted to our group, as we have not one, but four among us who have access to some kind of power."
Under the watchful eye of the griffon we continued on. The ruins ahead appeared to be some kind of decrepit fortress, and it was here that we retreated. If the beast did decide to attack, at least the remaining walls would offer some protection.
Fett limped into the building and sat down on a fallen pillar, grunting in pain. "Enough."
Luke gasped in awe. "This place… it's incredible."
Fett nodded. "You should have seen it in its days of glory, before vandals, thieves, and time plundered it. It was a sight then."
"It's a sight now," Jessa marveled, staring down at the mosaic floor beneath her claws. Fragments of matter had been arranged into the shape of the Mandalorian crest. "What's this floor made of, anyhow? It doesn't look like stone or pottery…"
"Chips of bone," Fett replied. "Bone comes in more colors than white and ivory."
Jessa gave a convulsive shudder and leaped onto a block of stone.
This particular chamber of the fortress was, even in its ruined state, quite impressive. Though a section of the ceiling to our right had caved in, littering the floor with rocks and support beams, and gaping holes in the pillars marked where precious stones had been dug out, there was still a visceral, primal beauty here. It was in the bone mosaic floor beneath our feet, in the bas-relief stonework on the walls depicting former Mandalorian heroes, in the enormous statue of a rampant mythosaur in the center of the chamber, stripped of its metal plating and the ruby eyes long snatched away but still a fearsome, awesome sight. I wondered at the legacy contained in this chamber, in the hands that had crafted it and the warriors who had walked its floors.
"Why has no effort been made to restore this place?" I asked.
Fett shrugged. "No one to do it. The Mandalorians are gone. The Republic and Empire had no use for it. No one's interested in it beyond looting it for treasures."
I stared at the masked hunter, suddenly appreciating him for what he was. He was more than a cloned hunter, more than an orphan. He was an heir to a legacy, just as I was. Perhaps his inheritance was not as impressive as a magic ring and a dragon father, but it was noble and great in its own right. His past lay in these chambers… and his destiny, if he would only accept it.
Now I had a strong suspicion as to what must have transpired during Fett's discussion with the Shadow.
Something rattled overhead. Nightwind gave a cry.
"Smell something!" he barked. "Fur and feathers, blood on claws…"
A scaled, taloned limb emerged from the gaping rift in the ceiling and tore it wider.
"Sithspit on a stick!" Jessa screeched.
The griffon slithered through the hole and landed on the mosaic floor, claws rasping against the bone, battle-ready… and very, very hungry.
Luke and I ignited our sabers, prepared to fight. Fett and Tuck drew blasters. Nightwind reared on his hind legs and screamed a battle cry, and Jessa leaped down from her perch and extended her own claws.
Undeterred by our show of force, the griffon charged. I sidestepped its rush and plunged my weapon hilt-deep into its shoulder. It screamed in agony and whirled, snapping its razor-sharp beak centimeters from my ear. Jessa leaped onto its back and dug her claws in, hanging on for all she was worth like a Dathomir horse-breaker. Ash swooped down over and over, slashing at the beast's eyes with her own claws.
"Luke, look out!" cried Tuck.
The griffon's paw just barely missed Luke. Fett and Tuck fired upon the monster, and soon the air reeked with the stench of scorched fur and feathers. Howling its rage, the griffon charged Tuck, but Nightwind blocked its path and slammed a spike-leg into its breast. Boiling black blood spilled from the wound and hit the floor, steaming and staining the bone chips.
The acklay wrenched his leg free and stepped back, satisfied that he had made a kill. But incredibly, the creature kept fighting.
"Two hearts! Two hearts!" Jessa cried out, digging her claws deeper.
I struck again, this time carving a black wound down a hind leg from thigh to ankle that exposed bones the color of ferrocrete. The griffon screamed and lashed out with a foreclaw. I was not so lucky this time – a trail of fire coursed down my left arm as the extended talon cut through the armor and dragged across my skin.
Luke lunged, slashing off the beast's forelimb. It threw its head back with a cry, and Fett took advantage of its distraction to raise the mythosaur axe and bury it in the griffon's chest.
The beast collapsed but took its time dying, thrashing and screaming and flailing, determined to the last to have our blood. Fett kept hacking, cutting into the griffon until the brown fur and feathers were slickly black with its own ichor. Only when the monster breathed its last did he wrench the axe from its flesh and stagger away.
"Hard to kill, check," moaned Jessa. "If I still had a stomach, I'd throw up."
Ash screeched. "The ceiling!"
Two more griffons, one gray, the other jet-black, were investigating the hole. I threw one arm forward in a focusing gesture, and several supporting beams crashed down to seal off the rift.
"Oh brother, the door!" Tuck shouted.
This time it was Luke who acted, using the Force to topple an already-unsteady pillar and let it fall to block the entrance. The griffons were sealed out.
Unfortunately, that meant we were also sealed in.
Nightwind lifted a foreleg and dug a small hole in one wall, far too small to admit a griffon but large enough to allow us a good view of the outside world. What I saw was not comforting.
The building was swarming with griffons – black, brown, tan, ocher, silver, white, gray, gold, calico, piebald. They screeched their hunger and hovered about the building like carrion flies about a corpse, tearing at the stone with their claws and hissing frustration at being denied a feast. Beyond the beasts, I could see our ship… in ruins. The griffons were smarter than they looked, and they had rent the space yacht into scrap to ensure we had no way off Mandalore.
"We ain't got a snowball's chance on Mustafar of getting off this dirt clod," said Jessa gravely, summing up our predicament as only she could.
